Lemonade: A Woman’s Narrative, Not a Man’s Confession

When I first heard about Beyoncé’s Lemonade, social media was abuzz

with gossip. All I saw were posts speculating if Jay Z cheated, or whether this

was all a ruse to get more people using Tidal, a music streaming site founded

by Beyoncé and Jay Z. I knew then I was in no rush to see Lemonade.

Beyoncé is a brand, I thought; it’s her job to keep us curious and engaged in

her content. The public knows nothing about Beyoncé’s life besides what she

wants us to know and even then, the public can only guess. What was going to be different about this album? All of a sudden she was going to share herself with all of us, revelations about her marriage, of all things? HA! Not a chance!

I’ll pass on that publicity stunt. When a good friend of mine invited me to a Lemonade listening party to watch and discuss the film among other women, I must admit thatI finally conceded to seeing what the hype was really about.

After experiencing Lemonade (and it is an experience) as a film and

an album, I saw less of a confession of fidelity to the public and more a

testimony to the complexity of a woman’s world; the acceptance of that world in all its seasons and forms. Yes, we had some confirmation that Jay Z and Beyoncé had marital problems, but in Lemonade we witness a woman’s perspective, exclusively. The three male features on the album, Kendrick Lamar, The Weeknd, and James Blake, are nowhere to be seen in the film. Jay Z is also missing in action until the end and even then, does not utter a word. Lemonade is not about a man cheating; it is about a woman being, which is apparently much less exciting to the general public.

Beyoncé takes us through 11 states of emotion during Lemonade: Intuition, Denial, Anger, Apathy, Emptiness, Accountability, Reformation, Forgiveness, Resurrection, Hope, and Redemption. I not only witnessed her expressions of those emotions, but my own as well. These emotions existed in me and they were just as powerful, dynamic, and colorful as she was in portraying them. From the shameless glee of denial to the absence of my own father’s sound advice, I saw Beyoncé provide a mirror to my own womanhood, as complex and messy as it can be. She told me it was okay, okay to be complex, to fall, to cry, to love… as long as I got back up. It was comforting to see her break

windows, swim in her own madness, become the tormented mistress herself, and heal her wounds in mother nature’s bath. My womanhood became a mosaic of experiences stuck in my throat, mixing with the tears on my face. She was not speaking to her own isolated existence but to all of us woman who exist on multiple realms of being at any given time. In Lemonade, Beyoncé shares a narrative of mothers, daughters, sisters, and grandmothers

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It was clear to all of us watching the film that day, among pie and lemonade, that this project was for us. The dancers were women, the poet featured in the film was a woman, the community of women gathered for the song “Freedom” were all women–Lemonade embodied the epitome of womanhood, down to the very end when we witness womanhood as a community effort. We were transported to a different time, a community of women living in wooden cabins surrounded by willow trees, as if in the deep South. A time when women ate together, laughed together, planted together, and unapologetically stood by each other’s side. The tears started up again as I knew so many women, myself included, who were striving for that sisterhood–-that utopia of women showing up for women, just because it was our pleasure to do so.

It says a lot about a society when a woman opens her mouth to speak her

truth—and all too many see is a man on her tongue. How did we miss the

positive symbolism of sisterhood and womanhood only to ask whether or not Jay Z is cheating? Jay Z remains voiceless in Lemonade for a reason. Do not be

confused: Beyoncé’s womanhood is the only muse here. Images of trees, the

ocean, the moon, fire, dirt, and sunlight were the only transitions Beyoncé

needed between songs to make it to the final track, “All Night.”

Just like she did not need a man to verify her process, I did not need a

confirmation of Jay Z’s marital commitment to be moved by her healing. All I

needed were other women who sat with me, crying, laughing, and snacking on

guacamole together, as we witnessed some facets of our own womanhood via the big screen. Lemonade is the space for a woman to be; and through

that vessel we too gain access to freedom.

Beyoncé speaks for all of us women who sometimes get tired, get sexy, get

defiant, get angry, get insecure, get heartbroken, get confused, but most of

all, must heal in order to keep moving forward. Lemonade is a

declaration that all of our emotions deserve space in a woman’s being, just as

Beyoncé gave herself an hour to explore visually and through an album without interruption of the male perspective. We as human beings and as women are allowed to be complex in our own way, but society has failed to recognize that. We are either bosses or we are worthless. We are either sexualized deviants or pure angels. We are men’s puppets or their nuisances. But we are so much more than that, and we have the right to declare and celebrate it.

This is Beyoncé’s Purple Rain. She cannot take the transparency, honesty, and inspiration back from our eyes. I am irrevocably inspired and can’t wait to see what comes out of me, when I too try to hold my womanhood in my own hands. What will she say? What drink will she personify? How many colors

can my womanhood paint me in one day? How many windows will she break? I think all of us should rise up to the challenge, and dive deep into our own womanhoodto see what we find, no matter how undefinably beautiful and complex it is. Because freedom is sweeter than Lemonade.